


Once Upon a December

by i_dwell_in_darkness



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abrupt Ending, Autobiography, Daddy Issues, Direct Address, Father Figures, Haiku, Inspired by Real Events, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Prose Poem, Reunions, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unrequited Love, haibun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_dwell_in_darkness/pseuds/i_dwell_in_darkness
Summary: Far away, long agoGlowing dim as an emberThings my heart used to knowThings it used to rememberAnd a song someone singsOnce upon a DecemberAn abandoned series of haiku surrounding the real-life events of December 28, 2011Title shamelessly stolen from one of my favorite childhood movies, the the 1997 filmAnastasiaand itssong of the same name
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeecheyIsland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeecheyIsland/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sunflower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25803763) by [BeecheyIsland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeecheyIsland/pseuds/BeecheyIsland). 



> Thank you jbgyllen for your incredible RPF College AU Sunflower, which awakened in me some old memories and emotions that I had supposedly suppressed. Without you I may never have shared this work! 💖

Narrative haiku:  
to weave a tale, bit by bit  
syllabic story


	2. Entrance

Six eyes sweep the floor  
past tables, chairs, to the door  
and meet a man’s gaze


	3. Identity

The stranger peers back,  
hardly recognizable  
amidst waitstaff clamor


	4. Anticipation

But I’d know that stare  
across any restaurant  
You weave your way near


	5. Procrastination

Two hours tardy—  
Will you still chide your students  
about strict deadlines?


	6. Patience

—I wonder, in jest  
Ninety minutes, after all,  
was all that had passed


	7. Relativity

Fifty-four hundred  
seconds is not all that long  
in light of five years


	8. Outerwear

You approach, clad in:  
a fringed scarf, a fedora,  
and a wool topcoat


	9. Uncustomary

Not quite sweater-vest;  
more dapper, twenties mobster  
The beard complements


	10. Business

Behind me, your arms  
rustle, your jacket hung limp  
Then three men shake hands


	11. Waiting Again

The time is an ant…  
At last the clasp breaks loose, and  
your palms scoop me close


	12. Expectations

To reestablish  
the brief, broken hug—that’s all—  
from graduation


	13. Forehead

Your stubble brushes  
along my angular brows:  
unexpected kiss


	14. Boundaries

A line never crossed  
But suddenly I hope to  
push them further still


	15. Poetic Wishlist

I once wrote these three:  
on the brow, the cheek, the lips  
The first now checked off…


	16. Rousing

Around me returns  
the promise of _this_ ev’ning  
as four comrades sit


	17. Waitress

A bumble-ing blonde  
takes orders (I stumble through)  
You request a beer


	18. Sister

I can see her face:  
_This late! No less, your teacher!_  
_I thought Dad was bad…_


	19. Classmates

The boys cheer you on,  
like fifth-grade bathroom humor  
Some things haven’t changed


	20. Speaking of Dad

My pants’ pocket quakes  
with vibrations, a query:  
_Did you get my texts?_


	21. Christmas Eve Service

(I guess I forgot  
to reengage its shrill trills)  
Cavernous silence


	22. Conference Call

The dial tone blares;  
Dad declares he’ll be there soon  
to make arrangements


	23. Awkward

My cheeks growing flushed,  
I flounce my bangs, face my peers,  
phone smothered again


	24. Composure

Your eyes just twinkle;  
the boys think nothing of it  
I forsake the reigns


	25. Shift

So we move forward,  
driving toward the newest age:  
Technological


	26. Media

Josh, Brandon drone on:  
school boys’ toys—fifth grade, perhaps?  
I merely listen


	27. Small Talk

Content to observe,  
I absorb their chatter, when  
suddenly—it breaks


	28. Intruder

Clock strikes eleven  
and Father promptly swoops in,  
stern glance masked by grin


	29. Coy

_Joel._ _Estel._ they say  
(instinctive competition)  
as my two “dads” greet


	30. Bargaining

I plead, eyes pouting:  
_Midnight restaurant closes,_  
_and food’s on its way…_


	31. Ultimatum

_But who will drive home?_  
Dad’s rule—unspoken, tempting:  
Not you, I, in a car


	32. Fantasy

If only we could:  
You drunk on beer (I, on love)  
Night driving, alone


	33. Virtue

How little credit  
I (inebriated tramp)  
give you: sober man


	34. Request

Sheepish, I turn to  
the boys, still gallivanting:  
_Tonight, my chauffeur?_


	35. Agreement

Josh consents, Dad nods  
Brandon offers just in case  
You watch from the edge


	36. Normalcy

Returns to our group  
when my father turns for home  
Freely, we converse


	37. Three Paths

Work, college, both:  
two bold boys, one bashful girl  
Stronger voice prevails


	38. Hot Wings and Go-Karts

They speak of their jobs:  
Josh, usurped by his trainee;  
Hours of toil


	39. Immigrant

I, but one of four—  
never worked a day my life  
—enter foreign land


	40. So, College

_How’s school?_ you ask  
Tone: gravelly but tender  
Tempo: empathetic


	41. Scripted

Sighing, I reply  
a broken record’s chorus:  
_It’s been alright…_


	42. Unconvinced

Your eyes still grimace  
with the pain you know I feel  
We laugh it away


	43. Counterbalance

So I weigh the odds  
My grievance: college, dorm life  
—but class has been good


	44. Forward

You, I, resurface  
from murky depths (one-on-ones)  
and join boys’ prattle


	45. Epilogue

The rest is a blur:  
impersistent memories  
now lost to the void

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these poems in response to a real-life event nearly a decade ago and hadn’t touched them since. Then one late summer morning I awoke with the final haiku having spontaneously materialized in my mind, and I scrambled to jot it down before it too was forgotten.
> 
> I next toyed with posting them to AO3 but quickly became distracted by tags and formatting. However, after participating in the [Good Intentions WIP Fest](https://goodintentionswipfest.tumblr.com/) later this fall, I discovered how cathartic it could be to lighten my drafts folder. So, I determined to publish this series on the anniversary of its inspiring night.
> 
> I originally wrote these when the memories were still fresh, but so much time has now passed that I don’t actually remember the night in question. These poems and a miscellaneous sketch remain my only records of what transpired.
> 
> 2020 has been a year of reflection and soul searching for many of us, myself included. During the past several months I’ve been sorting through a lot of pent-up emotional baggage, and I’ve come to realize just how many of my past experiences I have simply swept under the rug and never really addressed. Over time the intensity fades; memories eventually fizzle out and blur. But they continue to haunt me.
> 
> On the night in question, I reunited with a couple middle school friends along with one of my favorite teachers. He was a pivotal figure in my life during my formative years, I and developed a crush on him that soon spiraled into a years long infatuation. 
> 
> Meanwhile, he moved away from my hometown while I was in high school, which only fueled my obsession. Eventually, by the time I started college I had convinced myself that I had left him behind. But his visit on this December night of my freshman year rekindled the embers of my infatuation, and it took me several more years to _actually_ move on.
> 
> That messy tangle of dedication, desperation, and desire has been a core part of my story for over half my life and continues to influence my favorite fictional tropes, such as pining, unrequited attraction, and forbidden love.
> 
> Likewise, I’m always infusing myself and my experiences into everything I create. Recently most of my creative works have been fannish in nature, but much of my earlier writing, especially my poetry, was autobiographical. It’s been therapeutic to return to my roots and allow myself to be vulnerable and authentic rather than constantly hiding behind fictional personas. Now instead of residing solely in the void of my mind these memories live on in the Archive—a safe haven for free expression. ❦


End file.
